


the shirt theft

by do_i_know_you



Series: Gallavich Domestic Fluff [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Established Relationship, Husbands, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Season 11, Sharing Clothes, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uncle Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/do_i_know_you/pseuds/do_i_know_you
Summary: “What?” Mickey mumbled with his mouth still full.“That my shirt?”Mickey looked down at the light grey shirt he was wearing. “So what if it is. Thought the whole point of marriage was ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours’.”“Just asking, didn’t say I mind. You look really cute.”“Fuck you, dickhead. I’m not cute.”......or: Mickey steals Ian's shirt.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gallavich Domestic Fluff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153040
Comments: 16
Kudos: 280





	the shirt theft

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So I got this idea from that instagram post where it looks like Mickey's going to wear one of Ian's shirt. It probably won't play out like this in the actaul show, but we'll see.
> 
> English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Mickey muffled a groan into his pillow as the alarm clock rang out into the otherwise peaceful room. It was Sunday for fuck’s sake, no alarm clocks should be allowed until after eleven. There was shuffling on the other side of the bed, a thump and a second later the annoyingly too-loud sound stopped.

He relaxed again, the sleepy fogginess returning, ready to welcome back his really _really_ nice dream about a certain red head. But he would not be so lucky. Moments later the bed dipped and the comforter was lifted, momentarily revealing Mickey’s bare ass to the chilliness of the room. Then the weight disappeared from the mattress all together.

Sleep escaped him completely then, as he realized his husband was planning on leaving the bed in the way too early hours on a Sunday. Has he mentioned it was _Sunday_? Ian had some fucking explaining to do.

Mickey groaned again as he turned around to face the room, turning his back to the wall. He was met with the sight of Ian tugging on a pair of sweats, his freckled chest still without a shirt.

“Where the fuck you goin’, Gallagher?”

His husband’s gaze snapped to him, as if only now realizing he was awake. “Oh, sorry Mick, didn’t know I woke you.”

He better be fucking sorry alright. “Was I suppose to sleep through the fucking end of the world siren you have for your alarm? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure it woke the deaf granny from down the street.”

Ian chuckled as he pulled a shirt over his head, getting stuck momentarily on the too-tight collar. “Well, you usually sleep through it when we have to get up for work, so yes.”

That is actually not entirely true, as he usually just pretends to ignore it, but that’s besides the point. “And why was it wailing on a weekend?”

“I’m going for a run,” Ian answered, sitting down on the floor and pulling on a pair of sneakers. There wasn’t much room to maneuver around, so he bumped his elbow on the bed frame at least twice in the process.

Mickey fought the urge to roll his eyes, because of course he was going for a run, he was Ian Gallagher and fuck forbid he had a lazy day, even though it was the first real day off they had in a really long time. “Right now? It’s fucking 6 o’clock, man.”

“It’s 8, Mickey,” Ian answered, way too chirpy, “and it’s the best time for a run.”

“No, it’s the best time for sleeping. Get your ass here and cuddle me, bitch.”

His husband had the audacity to laugh at him. “Sorry, no can do. I’ll be back in less than an hour and then I can cuddle your needy ass. Can bring you some coffee too, so you won’t be so annoying.”

“Fuck you. The offer’s off the table then, don’t need you stinking up the place.”

Ian rummaged through the pile of clothes discarded on the chair, dropping at least two shirts on the floor in the process. Mickey concluded he was probably looking for a sweater.

“Suit yourself.”

“Ah, c’mon, Ian. Just come back to bed and I’ll help you exercise later. Burn lots of calories, y’know, really work on your stamina.”

It looked like Ian finally found what he was looking for, a blue sweater that has definitely seen some better days, and pulled it over his head.

“You make a compelling point, you really do,” Ian said, kneeling next to Mickey on the bed and leaning over him. He propped himself up on his hands on each side of Mickey’s head, a smile on his face. Mickey smiled back, lazily, running his gaze over his husband, awaiting his next move. A peck on the forehead was really not what he was expecting to get. Ian continued, “but it’s still a no.”

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“Love you, too.” He leaned down for a quick peck again, this time pressing it on Mickey’s lips, before getting up and pulling open the accordion door.

………

Mickey’s eyes opened to the sun shining through the windows directly into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. After blinking away the brightness he rolled over, closer to the bedside table where his phone was charging over the night. A quick look at the screen told him it was already almost ten and the chattering coming from downstairs let him know he was probably one of the last ones still in bed.

The room was still cold, too cold for him to get from under the blanket without mentally preparing himself first, but after a few moments he managed to find enough willpower to drag himself out of bed. After pulling on some boxers and sweatpants, he searched for a clean shirt. The only ones in his drawer were ones with short sleeves or - in most cases - sleeveless. He should probably start doing laundry more often. Or nag Ian to do it more.

Deciding Ian wouldn’t mind him borrowing one of his, he grabbed the first long-sleeved shirt from his husband’s drawer and tugged it down over his head. 

Just as he made his last few steps down and into the kitchen, the back door closed, signaling somebody just left the Gallagher house. The only ones still in the kitchen were Ian and Franny, his husband standing behind the stove with a pan in his hands, Franny sitting on the end of the counter. There were three empty plates still on the table, probably belonging to whoever he just heard leave.

Franny was the first to see him. “Good morning, Uncle Mickey!” she said, a big smile on her face, her little dangling feet swaying back and forth.

“Morning, kid,” he answered and ruffled her hair as he passed her, coming to a stop behind Ian and wrapping his arms around his middle to press a kiss to his cheek, “and morning to you too, Mr Milkovich.”

“Oh, if it isn’t sleeping beauty finally deciding to get up.”

“Not everybody has the urge to get up with the sun on a fucking weekend. It ain’t what the weekend is meant for, you’re just fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, well, you knew I was crazy when you married me, so maybe you’re the crazy one.”

Mickey ignored the jab and reached for a mug in the cupboard to pour himself some coffee. “You really should make it up to me for leaving me alone all morning, y’know. Can start with making me some breakfast.”

Taking a sip of his coffee he realized with a frown that it was already bordering on lukewarm.

“Only ‘cuz I’m feeling generous. Eggs, take it or leave it,” answered Ian and, even though he said that, Mickey knew he was already in the process of making them the minute Mickey came down the stairs and that he really didn’t even need to ask. Ian also knew Mickey had eggs most morning anyways.

“Sounds great.”

Discarding his still-full mug on the counter, Mickey made his way to where his niece was still sitting on the counter, drawing something in a little notebook on her lap. She looked up at him. “Look Uncle Mickey, I’m drawing a lion.”

She turned the notebook so that he could see the yellow and red scribbles, resembling a lion quite well if you knew what you should be looking for.

“It’s real nice,” he said after looking at it for a few moments. “Isn’t it real nice, Uncle Ian?”

Ian lifted his gaze from the pan to look at Franny’s drawing. “It’s very pretty.”

“Thank you! I still gotta draw the grass.”

“Mhm, good idea, it’ll really give it some depth,” said Mickey.

“But I forgot my green pencil upstairs, I gotta go get it. Can you help me down Uncle Mickey?”

He did just that, lifting her from the counter and setting her on her feet. She all but ran up the stairs in pursue of her color pencil. Mickey took his coffee mug again and sat down at the table, checking his phone as he waited for Ian to finish up with making breakfast.

It was his husband that broke the comfortable silence again, “Debbie asked me if we could watch Franny tonight. She has this date thing with Sandy or something.”

“Yeah sure. As long as I won’t be forced into watching the fucking cartoon with the white marshmallow robot and his gang of superheroes again or some shit.”

“I’m sure she’ll try to convince you.”

And that was probably true. What was also true was that Mickey will probably give in eventually. But he was surprised to find himself not as annoyed as he thought he’d be – he actually likes spending time with the little rugrat.

Ian brought his plate over, setting it in front of Mickey, then sitting down himself. Mickey said his thanks and started eating, Ian mindlessly scrolling on his phone next to him. He was almost finished with his breakfast when he could feel eyes on him.

“What?” Mickey mumbled with his mouth still full.

“That my shirt?”

Mickey looked down at the light grey shirt he was wearing. “So what if it is. Thought the whole point of marriage was ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours’.”

“Just asking, didn’t say I mind. You look really cute.”

“Fuck you, dickhead. I’m not _cute_.”

“Sure you are. Look, even the sleeves are too long for you. Cutest thug on the southside.”

And Mickey might have smiled a little, but he’ll deny it with his life. “I won’t hesitate to kick your ginger ass, asshole.”

Ian leaned closer, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and Mickey really wanted wipe it away. Or kiss it away. Witchever.

“No, but seriously, you look so fucking hot wearing my clothes.”

“That’s just cuz you’re a possessive fucker.”

Ian laughed, then _finally_ pressed his lips to Mickey’s, muttering into the kiss, “Can you blame when _you’re_ my husband?”

A warmth spread through Mickey at the words and he smiled, his lips still on Ian’s. He felt a hand at the base of his neck, the other one finding its way to Mickey’s hip. Mickey’s own hands wound around his husband’s neck. And they stayed like that for a while, kissing and smiling. They barely even noticed the little steps coming down the stairs.

“Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian! I found it!” Franny exclaimed as she made her way down the last few steps into the kitchen. Ian and Mickey broke apart, looking at their niece as she triumphantly waved around with the green color pencil in her hand. “I looked for it everywhere and couldn’t find it. It was under my bed!”

“C’mere you little munchkin,” Ian said as he stood up and scooped her into his arms. “Maybe if you’d clean your stuff more often, you wouldn’t lose them like that.”

Mickey fought the urge to laugh at the irony, knowing the exact catastrophic state of their bedroom.

“But I don’t usually lose them.”

“Yeah, you do. Remember when you lost your shoes last week, or your backpack the week before that. And remember when you played with your mom’s car keys yesterday and then didn’t know where you put them.”

That’s when Mickey decided to step in: “Oh, give the kid a break. Don’t worry Franny, your _favorite_ uncle won’t give you shit for not cleaning your room.” He ignored Ian’s disapproving look, focusing rather on Franny’s beaming smile. “We should have some fun, what do you say, Red? Wanna go to the park?”

“Yeah! Park!”

She squirmed out of Ian’s hold until he let her down, then ran up the stairs again to get dressed.

The moment she was out of sight, Ian’s hands were on him again, sneaking them up his shirt (even though they were extremely cold, thank you very much). “Park, huh? So you don’t wanna keep good on your promise to help me exercise?”

“Told ya the offer’s off the table.”

“But that was before you looked so hot wearing my shirt.”

“Yeah? Take it as a punishment for being a fucking dick then.”

“You’re gonna wear it to the park, right?”

“I don’t have any clean ones of my own.”

“Good.”

“Like I said – possessive fucker.”

Franny’s voice sounded form the front door, calling them impatiently: “Uncle Mickey! Uncle Ian! Come on, I want to go!”

“C’mon, tough guy, can’t keep our niece waiting,” Mickey said, turning to walk through the doorway into the living room to get to the front door. Before he could leave, Ian took hold of his wrist, making him turn back.

“You should wear my clothes more often.”

And yeah, maybe Mickey should.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it I would really appreciate kudos and comments!


End file.
